Life Destroyed
by Blainers-143
Summary: Peeta's tale of being picked for The Hunger Games. Slightly AU, in the sense that it's Peeta's thoughts, and the minor characters that I use I made up the personalities. All characters and most ideas are property of Suzanne Collins.


This is Hunger Games, so I'm trying something new. Feedback appreciated! (Also this is a Peeta-centric one-shot). Only constructive criticism or something nice, please nobody say anything mean or cruel! If I should continue, let me know!

Only Disclaimer being: When unicorns are real, I would make money off this. :)

Peeta's Pov:

Today marks the 74th Annual Hunger Games Reaping. It also marks my 16 birthday. It's an odd coincidence, and although I shouldn't think much of it, I do.

My mother is yelling at me for not paying attention to the bread I've been baking, but I don't care. I'm preoccupied in my own head, clouded with depressing thoughts of my own death.

My name is only in there five times, and it shouldn't be a problem to not be picked for this year. There are thousands of names in there, not just mine.

But it's happened before, people with their name in that menacing bowl just once. And they had to fight. And they have died in horrifying ways.

I notice it's eleven-thirty already, so I walk upstairs, stepping past the creaking steps, ready to give way at a moments' notice.

I take as much time as possible, hoping to stall and miss the inevitable. I pass it off as looking good, pretending I won't be picked. Head held with confidence, inside, shaking with fear.

But deep inside my head, my subconscious is telling me, 'Oh, Peeta, how ignorant you are. There's actually a likely chance you will get picked!'

But I ignore that, instead, I focus on the positives. I'm clean, ready to go, have a slim to nothing chance of being called, and have never signed up for tessarae.

I walk out the door towards the center area of the Mayor's house where all of this sadistic event takes place. I go up, sign my name, and mumble, "Why is signing needed? They'd find me anyway and shoot me."

I take as long as possible to delay my true arrival. Giving me time to think, my mind wanders away. I bump into someone, and instantly I'm pulled back into this terrible reality.

I look forward and see Madge, the Mayor's daughter, waving to everyone and wishing them luck. She spots me amidst the crowd and smiles ever so slightly, but I understand her conveyance.

Miss Effie Trinket then takes the stage, straight from the Capitol she is. Wearing six-inch heels and a large pink wig to match her dress, she must see this as a festivity.

Grasping the microphone, she starts her speech.

"Panem was, in a way, a rebirth from the shambles that were North America. We rose up from what remained and built a great nation of 13 Districts, very similar to the very first 13 Colonies.

"For the longest time, the Capitol was everyone's saviour. Keeping peace amongst those who run wild, and making sure everyone prospered in their respective District.

"Then, Panem changed drastically for the worse. An uprising against the Capitol began. Thousands died during those Dark Days. That President came up with an excellent solution.

"After eliminating District 13 to show what they were capable of, to prevent any further rebellion, which was tragic in itself, the Hunger Games were created. 24 tributes, two from each District, one male and one female, entered an arena and fought to the death.

"Only one winner is declared. 23 tributes die for this proclamation of a victory. It may last days or months, depending on the will to live and return home each tribute has.

"Thus, I welcome you all, to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

She starts with the female being picked, and as she reads the name, I panic myself.

Primrose Everdeen.

I hear screeching and sobbing, and turn to see a heart-wrenching sight. Prim is being dragged away as Katniss watches, until she screams too.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" I couldn't believe it. A brave act to do, and very rare, especially in District 12. I almost applaud at her courage, but can't. It's a terrible time.

Katniss marches up to the stage as Prim is watching in horror, because Katniss has just really signed her own death certificate. It's shocking to watch.

Effie moves on with her, over to the bowl of boys' names. Haymitch drunkenly stands and starts wondering if anyone will volunteer for this poor boy who is going to be picked. No one complies.

Suddenly, she pulls out a slip of paper, and unfolds it. The next minute of my life is the longest I've ever felt. She wants suspense before she reads the name. And that's exactly what she's getting.

Peeta Mellark.

These two words are what change my life. Or, more likely than not, end it. How it was possible I got drawn out of every eligible male in District 12 is beyond me. I stand there, shocked. But more than anything else, terrified for my life.

I know that I won't be returning to my home. Ever again, probably. This will be the last time I ever see the people I love, and these familiar surroundings I have spent my entire life knowing.

Suddenly, Peacekeepers were grasping my arms, and none too gently. That should be the least of my concerns, but strangely enough, it's not.

As I'm thrust upon stage, everyone staring at me, knowing I'm the baker's son. The boy with the bread. I'm sure to die a painful death. They know I won't return.

Effie speaks into the microphone again, vocalizing my own desperate question. I wait impatiently. Silence surrounds me.

"Are there any volunteers for tribute? To continue the exciting day? Somebody must want to take the glory away for themselves..."

Yet as I guessed, nobody volunteers. My brothers, one to old for this, looks away, not meeting my eyes. My brother who is now 17, who could volunteer and save me, runs from the crowd with stealth. My mother scoffs and starts to turn from this foolish event.

My father just looks at me, no emotion evident on his face, blank, not even an ounce of love or fear showing through.

Effie starts to conclude the gathering for the Reaping. "I guess that does it! District 12, please welcome, your two Hunger Games tributes!"

People look at Katniss with hope, my entire family included. I know what they think. We might have a winner this year, and it won't be me. Everybody only looks on towards me with pity. Pathetic. That's what I am. That's all I am.

Katniss and I shake hands, and she already looks like she wants to kill me. I just smile slightly and start to turn. The Peacekeepers, once again one step ahead of us, whisk us inside, where we await anyone who will say goodbye.

I examine the fancy room, that I am led to, not very interested, and sit down. I can already hear the sobs in the room adjacent to mine, and, guessing that it's Prim and her mother, focus on something else so I don't listen in. It pains me hearing the love filling the room; the pain and the fear, but all I sense is the love.

I sit and I wait, and wait, and wait till I grow too impatient to keep still in one place. I stand, intent on pacing around the room, sure that no one would visit me in here. Until, that is, the door opens and in walks the last person I excepted to want to see me, before my impending death.

My mother.

I don't expect her to say anything at first, I assume she'll just scoff at what a pathetic tribute I am for 12 this year and leave. What happens next hurts ten times worse than what I imagined.

"I can't believe that you are the excuse of a son I've had to deal with growing up and now you're an excuse of a tribute. You shame this family, everyone knows you are going to be one of the first to die, and now because of you, I have to act upset and worried about your upcoming death! How could you? Did you think of what you being in the Games would do to _my_ family?"

And that was all it took to break the dam.

I started to sob, and that was finally when my mother, if I could even call her that, took her chance to make her leave, but not before a scoff and some final parting words,

"I always told your father, how useless you were, but he never believed me. I used to tell your brothers the same thing. Nobody believed me. But I guess now... No, I _know_ now I have my proof. Goodbye, _Peeta_.

She spoke my name with such venom, that I couldn't help but fall to my knees, and watch the door slam shut, knowing she would be the last person I saw from District 12 before the Games.

And for that, and that alone...

I hated her.

Now I knew that my life, what I'd grown up with, what was taken from me, given to me, and worked for, was all going to be torn down and destroyed.

Destroyed, because of her, and the Games.


End file.
